Nay, nay, set your sights afar.
Weâve strayed in wary, but were weary slain.
Cries in volumes, bleated strains,
Caught off guard and untrained.
Now, when the dark was hallowed,
They burned the light just to spy the prize from above.
And when the stars were bolted just for eyes, you might weep.
The prize is no reward.
Iâll concede no hope is won.
Iâll concede no opening the only way Iâve known.
I wouldnât have felt this tired but weâve run.
And god if I had known what weâre in for, Iâd hide.
The hunt of wills, I thought, would kill me.
And which they preyed, I saw myself draped in sheepâs skin, blood crumbs, entrails.
So which mark is seized. Which one will faint?
Iâll concede no hope if given time.
On high, some kind of word sent down, âgive in.â
Nay, nay, set your sights afar. Weâve strayed in weary, and were wary slain.
Cries in volumes, bleated strains, caught off guard and untrained.